Forever Your Angel
by Rac4hel414
Summary: Fate wanted us together, then fate changed its mind. This is a writing assignment for one of my classes. Feedback is welcome


**A/N: Okay, this is in no way related to With Me Through Adversity but, if you want it to be, imagine it's Troy's dream. Yeah, that'll work. This is my writing assignment for my english language class. Ummm...I know it's short for me but I had a word limit (I was fifty over but don't tell my teacher. I slimmed the margins down so she won't know XD) This is so I can get some feedback. Also, I hope xLeeRandomx likes it and I hope you all enjoy it.**

**It is dedicated to my late Gran. I have a lot of regrets that revolve around her but it doesn't mean I don't realise them and miss her. That's what inspired this.**

**Feedback is welcome.**

**Don't own HSM (It isn't HSM for my assignment)

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Forever, Your Angel

It was hard to believe that the only other occupant of the room was my wife. My wife, who was usually talking, laughing and full of bravado, was pale, quiet and still. I'd never seen her that way before. But, I couldn't do anything about it now, nobody could.

The fluorescent lights were reflecting off of the white, disinfected surfaces and were hurting my eyes. But my eyes were glued to the scene in front of me. The sight was breaking my heart but now it was too late. I couldn't apologise now. I love her, I always will, but I know I broke her heart and now I can't fix it.

"Actually, Fletcher, the correct answer is 32_xy_." Those were the first words that Ellie spoke to me with her southern American accent. We met on the first day of secondary school and every single teacher sat us next to each other. We spent five years being fire and ice, trying to prove that we were smarter than the other and referring to each other by our last names.

When I first saw her, she had her blonde hair tied at the back of her head in a long, plait which hung neatly down her back. On non-uniform days, she had worn jeans and t-shirts, but still looked kind of attractive to me. I had been the closest thing she had to a friend but neither of us had ever classed our relationship as a friendship.

That is until we attended Sixth Form College together. That was the year when Ellie became more feminine, wearing skinny jeans and t-shirts that actually fit. She had discovered make-up and a hair straightening iron, too. We took the same classes and slowly got to know each other, even though we were still too proud to admit we were as smart as each other.

After we started talking to each other in a somewhat civilised manner, I asked her numerous times why she moved all of the way from North Carolina in America to Scarborough, probably the most insignificant town in England. Her only answer was "My grandmother" and then she would kiss the silver cross which hung from her neck. It wasn't until the middle of our lower sixth year, when I found her sitting in the corner of the library, being ignored by the other students, crying into her knees. That was the first day we had treated each other as friends.

But, this story begins nine years after that. We'd been married five years and, although we inevitably disagreed over the smallest thing, we still loved each other more than our families thought possible. It had been an ordinary day for the rest of the world: the sun was shining, parents took their children to school and the world kept spinning. But, for me, it was the day when my life started falling apart.

I had been sitting on the settee, contemplating how to tell Ellie. She was my entire life and how could I tell her this and keep our relationship the way it always had been? But, she had a right to know. Even though we fought, our relationship was like snow: pure, honest, and beautiful with the odd slushy part. I wasn't going to ruin that, or so I thought.

The front door slammed open and our small house was suddenly filled with the loudness and bluster that was my wife. Immediately, the silence was filled with giggles and laughter like a glass filled with water. The jangle of her keys being thrown onto the stairs and the rustle of her coat as she hung it up like wind against autumn leaves.

"Fletcher?" she yelled excitedly in her southern accent as her hurried steps brought her into the living room in a flurry of beauty and excitement.

I looked up at her and immediately smiled, something that made the little seed of love she planted in my heart back in secondary school, grow into a flourishing tree that, I knew, would keep on growing. "Hey, El. What's up?" I stood up, taking her hands in mine.

Her smile fell. "What's wrong?" she asked quietly.

I shook my head with a smile. "Nothing. Now, what's got you so excited?"

She momentarily looked unconvinced but it soon evaporated and her giddy smile replaced it. "Guess what woman just got promoted to deputy manager?"

I shrugged. "I'm guessing it's my beautiful wife?"

She giggled and nodded. "Yeah. Isn't it amazing?"

"Yeah," I agreed. I knew I should tell her but one look at her gorgeous face that was glowing like a star with happiness. I couldn't ruin that.

But, that decision caught up with me a year later. You know, the situation honestly sucks. When someone dies, people tell you that you can move on and that the world was better simply because that person was in it. But, it sucks that you can't wake up and see them lying next to you, or hear that beautiful accent one more time. I guess, fate wanted us together...then fate changed its mind.

Ellie's southern accent made her hard to understand when she was excited. But, it was just another little thing I loved about her. She was like my personal radio, saying something every spare minute, no matter how unimportant. So many times in our relationship I had told that I wished she had an on and off switch. But I never meant it. Not once. But, then she was my silent angel, not speaking a word for hours on end, just holding my hand in hers.

A year after her promotion, we were the only occupants of a hospital room. She hadn't left my side for twelve hours and, for the majority of that time, hadn't left my side, either. The only sounds had been the sheets of rain crashing against the window, the steady drip of the medicine in the IV drip and the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor.

I knew that this moment would happen but I hadn't spent one minute of the last year pondering what it would be like. Nevertheless, I was terrified. The thought of being away from my Ellie sent a terrorizing shiver down my spine to the tip of my toes. But, it was going to happen whether I liked it or not.

She squeezed my hand, her warm, tiny fingers wrapping tightly around my cold ones. "You'll be okay, Troy," she whispered. My weakened heart lost another tiny strand of strength. She only called me Troy when she was upset.

Ellie sniffed, a sound that echoed in the confined room. I wanted to wipe her tears away and make it better, even if it was from simply hugging her. But I couldn't.

She giggled shakily, her tears causing her voice to be as quiet as a mouse. "You're an idiot, you know that? But, I love you and you know that, too." She lifted my limp fingers to her cream-like lips. "You'll be okay, of course you will. I know you don't believe or even listen to anything remotely related to God or the bible, but I do. I know God will look after you and he won't mind you lying to me. He'll be glad that your last year with me was the best I've ever had.

"Do you remember when we first met? I thought you were a cocky, ignorant jerk. Who knew I'd marry you?" she murmured, her accent as beautiful as ever.

She sighed deeply and moved her hand up my arm, running her slender fingers over the muscles in my arm. "You could've told me. But, I guess I'm glad you didn't. Our last year together...It's been amazing. I don't know how it was for you."

_I loved it as long as you did, El._

I felt my lungs struggle to take in the oxygen that was being blown gently from the tank to the side. My heartbeat increased along with the beep from the monitor and I knew what was happening. I gathered the last of my strength and will power, knowing it was the last thing I ever did.

Ellie sobbed quietly, a rather feminine squeak, and kissed my hand again. "Troy, baby, you know I won't stop loving you. And look for my grandmother, okay? Look after each other. I'll be fine. And you made my life so amazing." She said it one last time, "I love you."

I moved my thumb, just enough to feel the silk of her hand, and took my final whispers of breath.

My stomach jumped into my mouth as I opened my eyes. I could see Ellie and...me. It was like an out of body dream I've had before. But I'm not asleep and I'm certainly not dreaming. I was dead, cold dead. Ellie was crying, holding onto my lifeless hand. I knew I had to frond her grandmother, I wouldn't let her down. That's the thing with love: it continues past the grave. I knew I'd watch over her, making sure she'd get back up and brush herself off when she fell.

But, the fact of the matter is I left her, leaving only the persistent beep of the heart monitor, singing the cancer's victory.


End file.
